Thank you very much for your nice letter of July 14th. I am glad to see that your interest in racial matters continues.
You will find that it helps a lot to put your clippings in envelopes or folders that have been alphabetized. You are so
interested in collecting Negro facts that I think that it
would be very wise if you would probably enroll in Library Science
at the University of Chicago and get some library training. You don't have to have a B.S. or have completed college. In fact,
I'd like to see some of your clippings, but I am afraid that time and the inconvenience of shipping them make me defer it
to a brighter and longer day.

I like your description of your home, your way of life, and the people you see and meet. You probably know that
several studies have been done on the Negro in Chicago. I have read quite a lot about them, but I did not think that anyone up
there would get jealous of you because I had been one of the poets included in GOLDEN SLIPPERS.

Now to get down to personalities. I am glad to know that you are beginning to
understand me better. I realize that I am a poor, insignificant, rebellious pagan, usually doing the
wrong thing when I would prefer to do the right, and forever making grievous mistakes that are difficult to set right, but
the only redeeming feature about me is that I believe that I
am right, that I try to be honest with myself, and that I am certain that I am sincere. And after that there is not much to
be said.

You asked whether I have missed you. To be honest, I
have not. But I did miss you around Christmas time and confessed my feelings to sister and others. I have told many people how
gentle your little rough hands could be when I was sick --
have told them how you seemed to get so much pleasure out of bringing my dinner or breakfast -- or whatever it was -- to
the bed, and sitting down on the side of the bed and eating it
with me. And there were the long nights when you and I worked late in the shed. And there were the times when you just must have
chicken for Sunday, and how you would take half of it to Sister's and put it on ice. . . .

Even after you seemed bent upon destroying what might have been happiness and contentment, I did not feel bitter
towards you. You were grown. You knew what you wanted to do. Even after you were gone I bought you candy, wrote to you
offering to send you a Christmas present, and also said that
if you thought that we could make it, we might try again.

But you would not hear of it at the time. I don't know why. I had a dream one night and in it you confessed that
there had been someone else--you even intimated as much in your letter when you said that someone was willing to pay for the
divorce. You said that you never wanted to see me again until you had remarried and had eight children. Although an
excitable man, I can be very patient or forgiving at times.

What you might have learned, dear Skipper, is that one cannot bodily remove a person from his life as one might pull
up a weed or a flower by the roots. You will also learn that when two persons have slept and wept together and eaten and
smiled face to face with each other, memories must go on and on. You must one day realize that all of our present and
future actions are governed by the well-springs of past experiences.

You asked whether you had ever meant anything to me. I think that question could answer itself if you would only
search through your memory. If you didn't, who else did? As
for the second question, you have been trying by every means possible to make certain -- at least it seems that way -- that
you would mean nothing to me in the future. You repeatedly and emphatically voiced your intentions so plainly, that no one
could blame me for making plans elsewhere. If I have been entangled elsewhere, you have no one but yourself to thank for
it.

I have rehearsed this long tale because it has been a part of me so long. However, if you have decided to change
your plans, I'd be glad to know just what they are. Although I
would prefer to finish the book before you come back, it is a pleasant idea of having your help in doing so. I often look at
the nice picture that you sent me. I might even say that you are beautiful.

But I still can't see what a girl like you would be concerned about a man like me., who is over-age, poor, a bad
provider, a chronic grouch, and a near-failure. But if you
have any plans, I again repeat, just let me know about them. Also let me know the time limit that you may set upon my accepting
them. Whether it will be six months, a year, or two years. And in the meantime be a good girl. . . .

Study of the blacksmith
tradition and New Orleans famous lace balconies and
fences.

Acclaimed
during his life as the unofficial poet laureate of
the New Orleans African-American community, Marcus
Christian recorded a distinguished career as
historian, journalist, and literary scholar. He was
a contributor to Pelican's
Gumbo Ya Ya, and also wrote many articles
that appeared in numerous newspapers, journals, and
general-interest publications.

Russell Simmons knows firsthand that
wealth is rooted in much more than the
stock
market. True wealth has more to do with
what's in your heart than what's in your
wallet. Using this knowledge, Simmons
became one of America's shrewdest
entrepreneurs, achieving a level of
success that most investors only dream
about. No matter how much material gain
he accumulated, he never stopped lending
a hand to those less fortunate. In
Super Rich, Simmons uses his rare
blend of spiritual savvy and
street-smart wisdom to offer a new
definition of wealth-and share timeless
principles for developing an unshakable
sense of self that can weather any
financial storm. As Simmons says, "Happy
can make you money, but money can't make
you happy."

According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.

Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.

As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.